


The Greatest Glory

by PerfectTragedy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1990s, Adventure, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cold distant Fin in the beginning, DenNor, HongIce, M/M, Other characters might work their way in idk, SuFin, Sweden-centric, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-07-28 05:46:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16235405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerfectTragedy/pseuds/PerfectTragedy
Summary: If there was one thing Berwald would admit at the end of all times and eras, after all the battles and bloodshed, the wins and the losses, the dead and the living, is that his regret still lies with losing Tino.However, the adventure of an eternal lifetime starts now.





	1. Prologue

As the routine went on, it weaved itself into the mark of time just like the web of outcomes and possibilities of which none seemed right. Just another day passing by with no event of great importance taking place in that monotone life of his, or monochromatic house, for that matter. Paperwork and hours wasted as per usual, while the bad case of emptiness filling the corridors was simply an additional factor to the crippling loneliness.

After thinking and rethinking, a process well-known, he decided on putting an end to the masses of blank and scribbled paper alike, past done with reading and occasionally filling up the empty papers with a language he couldn't begin to understand himself. Berwald dropped the pen abruptly, his hand blooming with new-found pain.

It was past midnight and his head ached with all the information absorbed in the past few hours of work. By now, he must've been digging his own grave by biting off more than he could chew. His gaze was tired and his mind was fuzzy, close to ending its affiliations with paperwork for the next century or so. Too bad that the process would repeat itself the following day and the next day after that one, going on and on until his mind's eye couldn't see any further than that point. All of the work was killing him slowly, and so was the isolation he'd set up for himself.

After first discarding his glasses somewhere onto the desk, he began making his way towards the freezing basement, through the empty rooms and empty hallways. On his way, he'd be reminded of his true motive. He would most likely need something to get his mind off the much too silent house, rather something to erase the presence of what's missing. It was quite a pain which was undoubtedly impossible to get rid of - no matter how many empty bottles the sunlight had to greet at the beginning of a new tomorrow.

Following muscle memory was a breeze, having gotten in the dark basement with time to spare for taking a deep breath. Walking along the rows of cellarettes, of which many too familiar, he eyed every bottle with intent. It wouldn't be that hard to pick something, after all, anything would do. Having decided on which he'd have the pleasure of opening, he retraced every step back towards his living room. There, looked upon him the dead, judgemental eyes of a bear layed onto the beige surface of the floor. Goosebumps raced across his skin. It mocked him. It laughed at his incompetence, the mess he'd become.

He was getting sidetracked now.

Finally, he chose to walk past the unusual carpet choice and took a seat onto the comfortable sofa, feeling his whole body sink into the foamy texture. A couple of furs were draped onto it, giving off a cozy atmosphere throughout the whole room. 

The commodity couldn't erase the questions left unanswered. They bugged him endlessly and tugged at every piece of his brain, agonizing him. One of the questions regarded the fact that every muscle in his body was still so inexplicably tense. His awfully expensive couch ought to do the trick, yet it didn't. Like a mystery ready to unfold, numbness laced through every piece of his body, as if holding it together, keeping it from falling apart. 

What could set him back to the person he was supposed to be? He was losing himself in the waves of the same, tiring routine. They engulfed him, drowning his feelings and replacing them with nothing at all, his body parts becoming empty slots instead.

And yet there he was, wanting to experience happiness, for it to bounce around inside his ribcage and through the space of his whole being. So, the cold bottle in his left hand was there with a single reason in mind: to be the magic pill of feeling something. It had always been there for him, for as long as he could remember, almost. It was just the common way of handling things, and that by pushing them away completely.

Right after the bottle had been opened, the best part had begun, that of indulging himself into the transparency of the burning liquid. 

The scorching feeling in his throat worked it's way into his veins, dialating them and reddening his cheeks with an unmistakable tint. As his breath was getting heavier and gulps getting larger, everything began spiraling out of control. Soon, black dots obstructed his vision until there was nothing left to see at all. He could swear he heard that damned carpet die of laughter right before him, before everything dissipated into nothingness.

Darkness swirled away every memory and every thought, leaving him be in an intoxicated, peaceful state, bottle staring proudly at its creation on the mishandled coffee table and a misused body laying numb between the paradise of pillows.


	2. The Ineffable Regrets of an Empty Household

The elements of the previous night have long been forgotten or simpy brushed off, as all left memorable was the urgency to get that cursed alcohol out of his system. Now was high time he'd begin sprinting and pouring his stomach's contents out, without a single denial of the abuse inflicted on his body the night prior. The toilet chase was not exactly what he'd envisioned first thing in the morning, but he had to adapt.

With no glasses on, it was impossible to see as perfectly clear at such a short distance. That's why being up close and personal with the toilet in front of him was more than just uncomfortable. Not to bring into discussion, however, the way toilet water splashed around and onto his face, helping contribute with diminishing his will to live.

A few minutes of lingering in his own misery have passed. He finally gathered the strength to get up from his kneeling position. That's when the clock came into view, announcing the glorious hour of 6 AM. What a great way to start the day, he might've thought, what an idiot he had become in order to get drunk to the point of passing out, he might've added in a slightly painful manner. Only people with excessively obsessive tendencies like Mathias went down that road and there was no way in hell he'd ever be similar to him.

His head was pounding. What a failure he'd become in such a short time span. Had it been 200 years already? More? It seemed as he could never get a grasp over his own life. Neither could his leaders as history came and left, apparently.

It used to be getting better, but since a long while ago, with only one person missing on his mind, getting back on track and into the normal rythm of everyday life couldn't have been any tougher.

He leaned over the toilet yet again. His body must've agreed in its own way with the thoughts popping up from the back of his head.

Everything was fine and dandy, as much as it could for being hungover, until he remembered a detail of smaller proportions that, frankly, made his brain hurt more than it had beforehand. He'd have to meet up with Mathias and his prime minister later on, yet there he was, feeling and most importantly, looking, like shit.

Berwald was currently walking through the chain of dully decorated rooms with the purpose of grabbing a suit and his glasses before taming whatever lived on the top of his head. He stopped in his tracks as he decided on treating his headache the best way he knew possible, with years of experience agreeing on his expertise. Extending a hand towards the kitchen counter, he brought a tiny bottle of dark liquid to his lips.

Was it that strange to keep so many bottles laying around the too big of a house? Maybe that's why he'd always find himself holding one. It was undoubtedly problematic, especially with so much work and trouble on his hands.

After putting the bottle back in it's place, air stuck inside his lungs and his breathing was cut off for a moment, as if there was some odd presence lurking deep in the shadows. 

There was no one. Undeniably, no one. And that's why it hurt.

 

9 AM. The meeting was to take place soon and the suit he was wearing gave off the feeling of a thousand bees stinging him. Simultaneously, that is. Not that he had the honour of being in such a situation, of course, but he felt that he could quite understand that type of pain now.

He forced his hand down before he could run it through his hair, having taken too much time to style it prior to the meeting. However, he still ended up being scolded by his prime minister for looking like a complete and utter mess. There was no way he'd escape his prime minister's watchful eye.

This was a complete slip up, one he'd never let happen, but it did. He should've been more careful, but he didn't care. It felt shocking, almost enjoyable, the fact that he didn't even bother anymore. It was as if he'd thrown his impulses and obligations out the window, now free as a bird. It's been too long since he's started fighting his impulses of letting go. There were simply no resources left for that, finally deciding on giving in. What was the worst that could even happen?

A few seconds away from a short announcement, wide chestnut doors opened, signaling the arrival of Denmark's prime minister, and, well, Denmark. After the most trivial of formalities, the two nations have been sent away to their own businesses, escorted by a large number of guards, even though nobody could even dream of getting inside the overly official building. As they so walked into the properly assigned room, they took their seats opposite from each other, both facing the small coffee table in front of them, happy to have their privacy, away from so many stiff people.

"Nice to see ya too, Sve." Mathias rolled his eyes, a light smirk at the corner of his mouth. "Ye're not too excited about bein' caged in that suit, huh?"

Mathias didn't wait for an answer before coming up with his own.

"Ja, me neither."

After further inspection by the exceptionally attentive guest, the nation realized the host's look was rather disheveled. Hair barely sticking to its assigned style, glasses somewhat crooked - was it because he threw them against his desk? - and a slight look of pain washed onto his features.

"Ye're right there?"

"Mm."

"Aww c'mon! I'm used to bein' the guy that rocks the messy look, well, that's 'cause I'm suuuper hot, no offense though! So. . . Hvad skete der?"   
(. . . what happened?)

"Ingenting."   
(Nothing.)

"Sheesh. . . What's yer deal? Stop actin' so tough and mighty!"

What was wrong with not annoying people with useless information about yourself? Did Mathias not know what it was like not to be completely and utterly extra?

"Fine, grumpy pants!" he teased. "I see ya don't take questions ya don't wanna answer to!"

Mathias was not going to give it up - his research with that weird brother/frenemy of his - not with such an anomaly going on right before his eyes.

Berwald tried casting away his gloomy facial expression, not after cringing slightly at the loudness of the other's voice, having escaped doubt for the time being. There was not a single drop of weakness inside his body, as there was never going to be one. 

Just in case though, he'd have to ease the atmosphere, having become unavoidably tense in the past minutes.

"Want to grab a cup o'coffee?"

There was a small pause, in which the other contemplated some sort of plan to help the seemingly closed in Swede.

"Du og din fika. Ain't complainin' though!"  
(You and your fika.)

"Det är inte fika om det inte finns bakverk."  
(It's not fika if there's no pastries.)

"Same difference!"

After getting some much deserved coffee, they took their seats again and Berwald was feeling comfortably uncomfortable.

He eyed him carefully before taking a sip.

"Wha'd'you want?" 

 

The enormous house no longer felt a home for some time now. There was no one to lay with and gaze into the ever growing flames of the old and cozy fireplace. There was no one there to cling onto him during the night and no one to wake him up for breakfast in the morning. He never considered himself the type to crave human affection, - as far as human could go - at all but, he was touch-starved. Every muscle of his body begged for something, someone to hold. 

To hold Tino close enough to hear his undying heartbeat, always in sync with his.

However, there were consequences to his actions and history had been cruel. It drove them apart, leaving only betrayal and hatred in a relationship cultivated for hundreds of years, if not since the beginning of time. The thought he could've done something more was still lingering in the seems of his soul. The thought of what he shouldn't have done ripped open his heart. Maybe if he was more open, less intimidating, more loving and less embarrassing, he'd still have Tino hugging him so close and tightly. 

As much as he'd like to think it would've been that simple, it wouldn't have in any way, shape or form possible. He had no control over his leaders' decisions, not when their minds were willing to give up everything for wealth, status and power. And so he ended up trying his best to be there while his mind was fogged by greed and riches, driven over the edge by lust and power. To put it shortly, it didn't work out. He wasn't good enough at ignoring the increasing demands for more. Would he ever be enough? 

For Tino, at least.

He deserved everything - the sun, the moon, the stars, the morning dew, all the forests of evergreen, the never-ending magnitude of land and sea - for he had a soul amongst those who have been touched by evil.

Or so did Berwald think of his angel-faced ex-lover.

Meanwhile, he was far too deep into his own thoughts. They troubled him but that was no reason to sulk in a corner and be completely unproductive. The stacks of paper reached unbelievable heights on his desk, yet he couldn't help himself. He felt worn out and exhausted from living alone with his own hateful ideas of himself and the past that drove them apart.

Regret pulsed inside his bones, cursing him forever with the burden of what could've been.

Tino's hatred for him was above all, justified and he knew it, but the feeling of something being off by just not sensing him around was so tough to handle that he might've been crazy enough to go all the way to his Helsinki based home on the edge of the Seurasaari lake. It was a wonderful place, a shame that such a beautiful house had been built so far away from him, keeping Tino all to itself.

In that way, the painful reality nestled into his heart. Sleep took over him, bringing along with it dreams of times when there was glory to his name, and most importantly, when Tino was there by his side. Now, both gone, he began reconsidering his choices.

However, there was no way he'd know about the sketchy plan of a particularly nosy person in his life. If he did, he would've probably wished he had never found out in the first place.


	3. The Beginning of an Intervention

The past days have passed by in a hurry, leaving an unmistakable haze in their tracks. It was true that he had begun falling asleep on that comfortable yet alienating sofa way too often; seeming as he was never able to make it to his bed in time before exhaustion overtook him, demanding he'd close his eyes and dream away. The other reason being the Finn missing from under the covers in his bed.

The only two things he'd been managing to do - having mastered them for a while now - have been sleeping and drinking, one more than the other but he couldn't quite distinguish them that well at all. It wouldn't make a difference, anyway. The documents left untouched grew in number with each passing day, yet he never managed finding the power to work on them. 

It was a faithful Friday night when the feeling of peace finally set into his bones, even if it were to stay for the shortest time, it would've left it's mark. This night was different, his energy rose significantly and so appeared out of thin air the possibility of getting better, even if it was dumb to think he was ever going to be truthfully 'okay'. 'Okay' without the missing element from his life at the moment wouldn't do.

Although it felt miraculously peaceful, there was no way in hell that his comfortable nights could go by undisturbed, and so it was no surprise when he heard the doorbell ring. He hoped to whatever Gods may be for mercy, for them to send him a lost tourist that would take a few minutes to redirect towards the right direction.

The melodious sound stopped for a second, before picking up from where it left off.

It was giving him a headache, no matter how nice the sound was considered, so he got up and marched straight towards the front door, ready to kill the awfully impatient person ringing his doorbell time and time again, especially at the glorious hour of 2 AM.

Berwald opened the door, glaring at the figure coming to light before him.

"Hej!" a smile shined through the darkness of the night. 

He noticed the look on his face, which, by the way, was screaming bloody murder. With a small, awkward smile, the intruder continued.

"Is this the wrong time or--"

A sigh put an end to his discourse.

"Danmark, what the hell're you doing here?" 

Berwald could never escape the annoying Dane, he'd always haunt him, especially now, closer than ever to the shadows of the night ripping into them both.

His gravity-defying hair bounced up and down, as he moved his weight from one leg to the other vivaciously. It looked as if he could never stay still, not even for a second.

"I know ya missed me! Don't ya lie!"

"We've last seen each'ther last week. Why're you here?"

"To grace ya with my presence, of course!" he gave a quick answer before pushing past Berwald and entering the house, not caring for an invitation as he knew it wouldn't be sent his way anytime soon.

"But by'll means, make yourself't home." Berwald glared at the tip of his toes, as if they had anything to do with his used-to-be-peaceful night going to hell.

Giving up with a sigh, he closed the door behind him as he followed the awfully curious and energetic's trail. 

"I know ye're too lazy to get yer shit together, but one of these days ye're gonna have to!"

"As'f you're any better." he replied coldly.

Mathias took a seat on the sofa, letting his rock-heavy backpack fall to the floor. 

"Damn, touchy, are we?"

Berwald caught up with him, analyzing his possible motives, intrigued, half wanting to see what was to happen, half wanting to outright teach him a lesson about disturbing people at late hours of the night then and there.

"Were ya gonna get yer beauty sleep?"

"I thought you were gonn'to." Berwald locked eyes with the unavoidable disturbance, not too far off from clicking his tongue in annoyance. "What're you doing here anyway?"

"I just felt like we haven't bonded in such a long time!"

He raised a brow, giving the other an utterly confused look.

"Bonded. .?"

"Of course grandpas like ya wouldn't know what that is!" he scoffed, as if it would've been the most common thing in the whole, wide world. "Nevermind. I just pitied yer Systembolaget crap and decided to pay ya a visit!"

"I'm doing great, tack--"

"Anyways, I've brought with me real beer, not yer moose piss!"

It took great effort on Berwald's side not to smash the Dane's head onto the coffee table, the fact being that the elegant piece of furniture would be ruined and so would be his colour aesthetic if he were to buy a different one.

"Don't think'ya remember who created Absolut Vodka." he looked down at him, gaze as sharp as ever through the lens of his glasses.

Mathias just looked away, admitting defeat for the moment, before coming back up with more to say.

"But can ya buy that time after time before the government starts callin' it what it is?"

There was a small pause in which his words sinked in. Berwald was stopped from his futile attempt to a comeback when the other's voice resonated through his mind like a painful headache.

"Didn't think so!" he stretched, making himself comfortable. "And that's why ye're lucky to have me!"

"How lucky I've to be." he replied, walking to and fro, taking care of Mathias' disregarded coat, which has been dropped carelessly onto an armchair of the two placed in the living room.

"Is that sarcasm?" eye-level was finally achieved.

"Nev'r."

As Berwald sat onto the sofa, he felt his body sink slowly into the expensive commodity. He took a moment off for taking a deep breath before Mathias went at it again.

"Here ya go!" he passed an open can of beer.

He took a sip and sinked deeper into the cushions and fluff. Maybe it wasn't so bad to have someone visit once in a while. Isolation didn't sound as full-filling now, in a turning point of his splendid loneliness.

After a few more cans, the mood began to lighten up not only in the room, but for the brought down Swede as well, who abandoned his glasses somewhere onto the table, gaze foggy either way. A small uncharacteristic smile tugged at the corners of his mouth while Mathias was casually breaking out into off-key singing every now and then between loud chatter.

A sparkle danced in Berwald's eyes as he was handed another can of liquid from the generous visitor, tilting his head back, not necessarily needing that to actually see the stars floating through his eyesight. They popped out of nowhere on their own, nobody having called them prior to this moment of lucid happiness. His cheeks were flushed lightly, actions delayed as he landed onto the ground, face saved by the mercy of a misplaced pillow. They laughed eternally, as a conversation broke out between the two once more.

While Berwald wasn't the one for holding lengthy talks, barely caring to speak up most of the time, his mouth would run off without warning once liquid confidence would be clearing his vocal chords and blurring his chain of thought.

Finally, after Mathias probably deemed Berwald drunk enough to coax into doing whatever, he brought his plan into motion. It was a miracle, though, that he managed remembering his big scheme with such a clouded mind.

"Hey, how'bout we drive up to Tino's place?" his eyes tested any reaction, tongue placed inside his cheek. "Shouldn't we pay yer wife a visit?"

If it wasn't for that rush of certainty, he wouldn't have nodded his head like a complete idiot, a smile still etched to his face.

"Miss'im." he admitted out loud, not caring for a minute to go ahead and think it through. "Want'im back."

"That's the spirit!" Mathias cheered. "Lukas' gonna get us there." that was too much of a coherent sentence, it made his head hurt. "Are ya in. . . Or are ya out?"

"Fine. Let's go ahead'nd do it."

With the last power surging through Mathias' body, he managed grabbing his coat and walking outside in the freezing cold of Swedish winter - which could perhaps last a human lifetime - in order for Lukas to help them get inside the car.

"We're kinda. . . Wrecked." he held onto the roof of the car with a stupid smile plastered onto his face.

"Couldn't you be any smarter?" Lukas asked curiously, wondering about the answer himself. "You weren't supposed to drink until you can't even stand up anymore."

"It's all part of my charm." he barely managed a poorly executed wink.

"You're a mess." Lukas completed his statement with a troubled expression.

"Ya love it." he slurred on, grasping onto the top of the car for dear life.

"I don't, can't say I'm attracted to an irresponsible man-child that gets drunk when I specifically tell him to watch his drinking."

"Ya love me, babe."

"Call me that one more time and I will leave your drunk asses here." he replied, a worried tone underlying in his speech.

"Ok, cool, honey bun." he replied. 

Lukas rolled his window up and began putting his seatbelt on. He was mad, not due to the nicknames, but due to the fact that his lover completely missed the point of self-control.

"Wait! Noooo!" he slammed his fists into the now closed window. "I'm sorry, babe!"

Lukas rolled his eyes, as always, and stopped his act before he would actually make the Dane cry, or worse, accidentally drive over him in an attempt of getting away.

Berwald was confused as to why there would so much screaming involved. He was already going to die by this point, why not enjoy every second until the moment of truth? Or death, in his case. 

There was a slim chance he was being overly dramatic, slim. But hey, wouldn't anyone be if they knew they were drunkly and blindly crawling back into the arms of an ex? An ex that hates his guts as well. That does sound like a scene taken straight out of hell, rather out of those overdramatic series meant to keep you guessing at every twist and turn of a tragic love life built on poor choices and hopeless dreams.

When did Berwald's life become a drama series?

It was awful to the point he began questioning everything regarding his relationship with the now cold and unforgiving Finn. Was there any way known to mankind for Berwald to make up for what he had done? He hoped, but hoping wasn't enough, he needed to know, he needed to go there and repair a bond broken by mistrust and events which have happened far too long ago to count now.

Loud honking could be heard from outside, probably signaling the time to leave on the adventure of a lifetime. After he put on his boots, he reached for a large and warm coat, threw it on, opened the door with his elbow and held it open with his foot which probably was the most resourceful thing he's ever done with his time. After finally locking the door and dropping his keys into a pocket hidden on the inside of the coat, he walked, still a bit dizzily, into the car and into the back seat. 

"Hej." he greeted as proper as he deemed fit for the situation at hand. "Thanks for th'help."

"Hei." Lukas inhaled deeply. "You're not any better, are you?"

"Mm." he replied, filled with shame after a particularly bad case of dizziness.

"Let's hit the road!" Mathias shouted but winced slightly at the volume of his own voice.

"Someone's excited." the unimpressed driver replied to the Dane sitting shotgun.

Berwald barely payed any attention to their antics, instead choosing to drift off into an uncomfortable sleep, as at every bump in the road, his head would hit the ceiling of the car. Uncomfortable at best.


	4. Traveling Together Means Cramming Together

It was by anything but chance that Berwald woke up to the sound of Mathias' laughter, the type of sound which made his left eye twitch in annoyance. Lukas must've had a will of steel as to not pull over and gently kick the louder one out. Maybe to not go as far as that, a simple slap to the head could work just fine. He'll never know if he'd never try in the first place.

The sun was shining, symbolising the beginning of a brand new day, the day in which Berwald would, after only so long, see Tino - a frightening yet exciting quest, a big change to the daily, boring routine he's become so very used to. It felt as it had been forever since he last saw those sparkling eyes, a truly strange, yet orphic combination of violet and brown specks.

Berwald was brought back to reality when the chatter inside the relatively cramped car continued. How come that Mathias had even more beer stocked in the back seat?

"Ooh! Babe, babe, let's play I Spy!"

"I'm driving, Mathias." he explained. "We've played enough of which one sees whatever first--"

"But I'm bored!" he gesticulated, a pout gracing his lips.

"Just do something else, preferably something that makes you shut up."

"Ye're so mean. . . Is that what ye're into? Babe, that's so hot--"

"I really don't need t'hear that." Berwald intervened, scared he'd find out more about something he needn't know anything about.

"Well, good morning." Lukas scoffed in his usual sarcastic manner. "Now that you're up, we can switch."

"But he just woke up!" Mathias gave a motive that could possibly help his case. "Why won't ya let me drive?"

"First off all, no."

The other waited for a second, expecting a continuation to the exhausted Norwegian's reasoning.

"Second. . . Of all?"

"No." Lukas replied, his eyes as blank as humanly possible.

Mathias pulled a face and gasped.

"How could ya say no to this?" he pointed towards his face.

"You didn't even sleep the alcohol off," Lukas paused, not giving any significant trace of emotion. "and also because I'm concerned about my own life when you're the one driving."

"Oh, c'mon!"

"I've to agree with Norge."

"Not ya too!"

"It's settled. We'll switch." he added, making sure the other understood.

"Right."

"The idiot's going to say where you'll be going." Lukas looked slightly amused. "Lucky."

Mathias dragged a hand to his chest, closing his eyes and sighing, as if deeply hurt by his words.

"Very. I'm surprised though, when did he learn t'read?"

"Ask him that yourself."

"Oh but shut up, ya guys! I'm bomb at giving directions!"

"Oh, but I know." Lukas smirked uncharacteristically. "We're going to ignore the fact that we don't even know where we're going just not to hurt your overly inflated ego."

"Nooor!" Mathias stomped his feet lightly.

"Stop whining, it's givin' me a headache."

"Like it's my fault ya already have one!"

Berwald thought about it for a moment. Yes, it was, in fact, entirely Mathias' fault.

"Det är faktiskt ditt fel."  
(It's your fault, actually.)

Mathias dropped the map he was currently scanning, unable to get a grip over the increasing tension building up in his chest, waiting for release.

"Look, it's not my problem ya like living like a hermit!" 

Lukas nearly cursed under his breath. They could never pass up an opportunity to fight, could they?

"And, since I give a shit about ya," he admitted. "I tried to take ya out of that miserable little place ya call home--"

"Danmark--" Lukas warned.

"And get ya to do something with yer life!" his shout slightly echoed, well, as much as it possibly could inside a car.

Instead of getting angry, Berwald decided he'd much rather take a deep breath, get his thoughts in a bunch to lock away at the back of his head and begin searching for some snus inside the large and spacious pockets his coat offered. With a sigh, he dropped the search fuelled by suppressed anger.

"Don't have any snus on me."

"That God-damned snus." Lukas rolled his eyes. "Take this instead." and threw him a pack of cigarettes from an inside pocket of his own coat.

Instantly, Mathias jumped as if his seat would've been set on fire, ready to give his seemingly emotionless lover an earful about his irresponsibility, what he should and shouldn't do, and especially, what he promised not so long ago. 

"I thought ya quit!"

Lukas looked petrified.

"Ya know it's bad for you, I really don't care about this trend or whatever the--"

"Okej, fine, mister healthy life choices! I've heard it all before. . . From you." he finished in a passive agressive manner, before pulling over into a spot near the road.

"Ya better listen up too, Sve!" he sighed, a little more past borderline furious.

After the car was parked and the engine was killed shortly, they stepped out, greeting the morning sun with happy, grateful faces - besides Mathias who was still pissed off at Lukas for promising one thing and doing another.

The car was parked in a beautiful corner of nature. From the small space they found themselves in, started the roots of old and battered trees, those which shielded them lightly from sunlight, offerering them a slice of shadow to rest and admire in.

"Well, isn't this a nice place we've got here!" Mathias exclaimed, his usual smile tracing his lips. "What do y'all think 'bout--" 

He stopped as he turned around.

"You're going to burn this forest down." Mathias rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, feeling more than a bit left out.

"It's pretty." Berwald continued, ignoring any trace of the other's frustration, breathing out a cloud of smoke.

"Pretty indeed." Lukas added, taking a drag from the cigarette placed between his middle and index fingers.

"Are y'all even listening to me?" he tapped his foot on the grass.

"D'you hear anything or. .?"

"No, but I do hear some birds singing."

"Nice."

"Would ya stop ignoring me?"

Berwald and Lukas looked at each other knowingly while apparently being completely oblivious to Mathias' existence. Lukas sighed and ran a hand through the unclipped side of his hair, turning to face his favourite idiot.

"Instead of screaming like a complete moron, you could grab that map and get us back on the right road since we barely know where the hell we're going anyways." Lukas explained, a shortness of breath coming on.

"But babe, what's the magic word?" Mathias pleaded eagerly.

"Oh, you'll see magic if you don't get to it already!" Lukas puffed out.

"Fine, fine!" Mathias raised his hands in surrender. "Sheesh, ain't gotta be so violent!" 

"Anything else doesn't seem to work with you." he deadpanned.

Mathias laughed it off as if he never heard it in the first place. It was a completely different reaction compared to when Berwald insulted him, if not galaxies apart.

"Planet to Sverige." Lukas snapped him out of the trance he was apparently in.

"Mm." he replied shortly, slight curiosity bugging him.

"How've you been?" Lukas' eyes held something ineffable.

There was a small pause, in which Berwald's chain of thought began running properly again - a contrast to the world around them which was getting greyer and greyer from the satisfaction of smoke.

"Can't get a grasp over all o'these papers." 

"Well, isn't that true for the most of us." Lukas shrugged, unreadable expression still. "It hasn't gotten any better, has it?"

The words echoed in the Swede's mind, no longer placing the sentence as a question out of pure worry, but rather as a statement that was true no matter how many lies added up. He threw the cigarette onto the tar of the road and squished it under his boot, an action which was immediately followed suit by Lukas.

"I'll take that as a no?"

"I'm fine. Why're you asking?"

Lukas gazed at him through half-lidded eyes which were calling him out for his untruthful responses. 

"I can read you." he carefully picked his every word, voice barely above a whisper. "I know you like the back of my hand." he accentuated the point he was getting at. "Trust me."

A confused yet challenging look washed over Berwald's features. 

"So many times you've helped. Even went as far as to step all over your pride." Lukas said with every word cautious, as any louder could break vocal chords. "I'm here. We're here--"

"Stop." Berwald glared. "Drop it." his gaze threatened every thought the Norwegian stood for right before him.

Lukas dared stepping closer until just a few centimeters sperated them from each other, looking up due to the height different, and speaking dangerously low. 

"If you think that's going to work--"

Why but where they interrupted.

"Hey!" Mathias intervened. "We only have 5 hours left! We're on the right path!" he continued the chain of happy shouts.

Lukas stood for a few more seconds, gazing into Berwald's eyes, before passing him by and walking over to Mathias. 

Before Lukas could even properly look into the map that was presented to him, Mathias wrapped an arm around his waist and locked their lips together, moving his head along the rythm of the prolonged kiss. 

Berwald rolled his eyes at Mathias' childishness. It was not the first time he went as far as to prove Berwald no longer had any right over Lukas, but it still touched a sore spot. The ache lingered somewhere inside his chest, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth - he used to be greater.

It was when Mathias held Lukas against the car, arms pinned at each side, that he snapped and completely walked past them, entering the car by himself and waking the engine back to life. Shortly afterwards, came in the two, Lukas this time in the backseat, leaning back into it as much as possible with all the beers laying around, probably in the search of a comfortable sleeping position.

Berwald pulled away from the spot, waiting for the next direction which was to be pointed out by Mathias.


	5. The Uncontainable Violence of a Frozen Relationship, The Snow is an Extra Addition

After five hours of horrible back pain and a desperate run for the ferryboat, Berwald finally drove into the city of Helsinki along with a painful headache. It was stunning but cold, however, not as cold as he would've liked. The frost swirling in the air has successfully woken him up from the exhaustion raining down on him, piling up on the top of his head like snowflakes.

It was a relatively short drive to Tino's house, in which, Mathias took the opportunity to fall asleep, but not before calling Berwald a 'granny' for going under the speed limit. Both Lukas and Berwald knew that if Mathias would have the chance to, he would most definitely push the pedal into the ground and along with it the last hope that they would be getting out of that car alive. 

Berwald pulled up in front of the small house while saying a quick, ancient prayer, his figure followed closely by Lukas' intense wave of curiosity. His steps were weakening with the lack of oxygen imposed by the anxiety rooting from the soles of his shoes like grass. Once he found himself in front of the door, his hand trembled hesitantly over the knob, thoughts running through his head at the speed of light. His visit would most likely remind them of their history together: all the sad and happy moments together, all the glory and the bitter end. It was a grand mistake.

After a few silent seconds, he finally pushed the door open all the while asking himself why it wasn't locked. The first few steps were easy but he stopped dead in his tracks when he felt cold, harsh metal at the back of his head. His love was close to shooting him like in those far and distant times, it shouldn't have been a surprise. 

The taller out of the two kept his ground, as if unfazed by the presence of a gun, back straight while glaring at nothing in particular. Within a few moments, Berwald slipped underneath the loaded weapon and flipped the other's hand around, turning him completely over and onto the creaking floor while the weapon slipped away and out of reach. He glanced over to the shaken figure standing at his feet with guilty short breaths. Tino quickly realized that there would be no way of getting up in time before being pushed down again and so he went for Berwald's knee, kicking it down which earned a painful wince. While Berwald was momentarily groaning in pain, Tino got up and reached for the gun, holding it with an iron grip. He kicked Berwald in the chest and held him down with his knee while locking the gun to his forehead.

Their eyes locked, hatred mixed in a swirl of hopelessness.

"What are you doing here?" Tino did not plan on using a language that was forced down his throat since day one, neither did he bother with shouting, spilling all his bottled anger at once.

No, he’d go about it the right way. Berwald didn't answer, but rather let him throw his tantrum before speaking up. Bad move, Tino thought. His response was an immediate fist right to the nose which was way too fast and sudden to be dodged that is if Berwald even cared as much as to do so. 

"I fucking asked you something."

The Swede seemed unimpressed even though his glasses slipped off and blood started dripping onto his upper lip and down the side of his face. Instead, he thought of how much he's missed that voice and accent.

Another punch, another few moments of silence followed by another awfully frustrated one but no answer as tears were gathering in Tino's eyes, violently threatening to spill. The beautiful glisten in pools of violet was the complete opposite of the bloody mess that Berwald looked like underneath his grip. Tino threw his fist again but it was caught next to immediately.

"I couldn't bring myself t'see you before." Berwald spoke silently.

"Why are you here then?" he screamed, fury in his eyes and tears rolling down his cheeks as unstoppable rivers of diamond-like transparency.

Tino calmed down for a second and took a deep breath, lowering his fist and hushing his voice. He ran a hand through his platinum coloured hair.

"I never want to see you again in my life, not now, not ever!"

Those words stung, but they were nothing he hadn't had the displeasure of hearing before. He brushed off the exact same words on the day his home turned into one of the loneliest places to ever exist and that guilt that would come in the following months wrecked him.

Tino raised his fist but before he could do anything besides blink once, he found himself shoved onto his back with Berwald's eyes gazing at him sympathetically and both arms like walls trapping his smaller frame. Tino's legs were hopelessly hanging around the other's hips as if magnets were keeping them tied securely like the prized possession he was. Possession no more. 

Tino did not only find comfort in their closeness but his heart skipped a beat as well.

"I'm sorry." Berwald continued. "I shouldn't'ave left you then, shouldn’t’ave given up on you."

"Go fuck yourself!" Tino kicked his hips with both feet and slided away onto the floor.

He got up in an unusually shaky manner and reached for the gun with a forceful tug. He began gesticulating with the gun right in his hand, finding his aim. His look was messy and dirty from the dust and dirt laying around in the first, empty level of the frugal house.

"You mean nothing to me! Absolutely nothing!" now he was trembling in both anticipation and hatred, boiling with unexplored anger.

"I miss you."

Tino looked past enraged with his statement and pointed his hand shakily to Berwald's figure with heavy breaths and tears free-falling onto the floor with muted sound.

The gun went off without a moment to spare.

The hole in the floor was so close to Berwald's head that it was enough to frighten, having grazed his cheek at the same time. However, he knew that Tino never missed a target in such a way unless he chose to do so.

"I'm so sorry." Berwald repeated himself. "I still love you.”

Tino's facial expression broke instantly into a scowl and fury sparkled at the edge of his fingertips. He dropped the gun and held his shaking hands to his head while falling to the ground. Silent sobs were completely wrecking and weakening his body ever so slowly. Berwald's eyes followed his figure while closing in slowly, dragging his sore body his way in the hopes of comforting him.

A shadow loomed over Tino and that is when he fell over onto the floor, out cold. Berwald’s eyes widened and an inner sense of protectiveness spread throughout his whole body at unbelievable speed.

"Needed a helpin' hand?" Mathias grinned like a madman.

Berwald glared at him and got onto his feet dizzily, close to kicking Mathias' ass to the depths of hell. He hit Tino's precious head and needed to pay for such sin.

"That was unnecessary, shithead." his mouth took off without his knowing.

"Well that whole scene was, but ya don't see me complainin'!"

"You can jus'shut your mouth." Berwald continued glaring before picking Tino up in his arms ever so gently, looking for wounds he mightn’t have noticed.

"Stop treating him like he's some type of pansy." Mathias scoffed and followed him through the house's main entrance. "The man survived more wars than I can count."

"That's just 'cause you're dumb and can't count past 10."

"Fuck off." Mathias sighed exasperatedly.

"I invite you to do so first." Berwald replied as he barely managed opening the car's door, screaming inside so he wouldn’t have to show what he felt like on the outside.

"Stop being such a smartass! Those glasses make ya smarter, so it ain’t fair." 

"It doesn't work like that, Dan." Lukas intervened as they entered the car, having overheard the discussion beforehand since he switched his seat for the driver's one.

Mathias took the seat in the middle of the backseat.

"I have to be here for Tino, go take the front seat." 

"We don't need no makin' out in here!"

"As if you're one t'talk--"

"Ya were comin' onto my boo!"

"I wasn't." a fire was sparked to life in Berwald's eyes - he was picking his fights and this was one of them. "Maybe he did."

Lukas sighed and bumped his head onto the steering wheel.

"Fuck no he wouldn't!" Mathias had a panicked face expression.

"Would he?" Berwald added.

"Let's get our shit together, please." Lukas begged. "No more fighting and use what's called the indoor voice."

"Danmark has no such option."

"Why you little--"

"I said no more fighting!" Lukas raised his tone and hell most likely froze over.

It was safe to say the two were at least a little bit shocked since he barely raised his voice above a whisper most of the time.

"We are hundreds of years old, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Berwald sat next to Mathias silently and closed the door in the a similar manner. Both threw each other slightly frightened glances as Lukas switched the key and the engine roared back to life. 

 

The car was still as peaceful as it was before taking off into the beautiful Finnish landscapes. However, the loud snores of the loved by all Dane resonated throughout the small space and made every brain cell want to jump from the top of Mathias' ego to that of his IQ.

Berwald has grown accustomed to it but a waking, beaten up and sore Finn didn't exactly settle with the going of things. He was tired and angry and confused and he wasn't going to just sit around and wait for that hellish car ride to end.

A single raise of his hand and the sound of a slap followed by silence filled the car. Tino literally knocked Mathias out with a slap to the back of his neck.

"Now you're on the same page." Lukas quietly snickered at the soundless Mathias in the backseat.

"So he . . .?" exhaustion was still raining down on Tino’s features but he was far less confused than a few seconds before.

"He’s the only one to sneak on people." Lukas replied right back.

"And why the actual fuck have you kidnapped me?"

"We didn't, Fin, just--"

"Don't you dare call me that." he hissed, anger replacing his consciousness. "I want you to shut up." his eyes travelled over to Lukas, as if waiting for everything to be explained as concisely as possible.

The Norwegian took it upon himself to shut up instead since he was not going to ruin what Berwald might want to explain later on.

And so the rest of the car ride was filled with loud snoring and cold glares almost as cold as the snow lingering on tree tops and falling off like sugar onto the paved road.


End file.
